


Let 'Em Speculate To Their Hearts' Desire (This Wasn't Arson, It's a Funeral Pyre)

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Dominant/Submissive Roleplay, M/M, Princess Plug, Troy Baker Sings!, cat o' nine tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 14:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15026909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: Thor manages to pull Loki back from the brink of both madness and non-existence at the end of the series finale of the Avengers Assemble cartoon (4x25), but there are still miles to go to mend all that has been broken between them.





	Let 'Em Speculate To Their Hearts' Desire (This Wasn't Arson, It's a Funeral Pyre)

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely no closure at the end of Avengers Assemble regarding Thor having to witness Loki being consumed by the All-Dark, which in and of itself is a travesty; but there is also a moment before Loki starts rambling about everyone else being a liar, etc. where it seems like he could come back if Thor was able to reach him at precisely the right moment, and therein lies the basis for this story. The title is lyrics from the song "What We Lost in the Fire" by Troy Baker, who is Loki's voice actor in Assemble and several other animated versions of the character - his album (yes, really) is available on Spotify, for the curious.

In truth, being rough during sex is not Thor's main preference. In spite of his size and reputation on the battlefield, the God of Thunder is a relatively easy-going bedmate, and one who enjoys giving as well as receiving, at that.

Even here, even now, staring down at Loki, currently bound tightly below him and glaring, this is not his top choice; he relishes the sparse moments when his brother wishes to have Thor's affections heaped upon him, Thor's massive arms collecting him in an embrace, his breath hot against Loki's ear as they both laugh when he whispers something embarrassingly affectionate and it tickles the side of Loki's face. This, conversely, is playacting, sentiment carefully wrapped in chains and harsh grips of flesh meant to bruise and wound. For Loki, the two must go hand-in-hand, and Thor, ever the dutiful brother, knows that the task falls upon his voluminous shoulders to be properly carried out.

It hadn't always been like this. Likewise, few would understand, Thor knows, that such actions carried out between them have become a sort of salvation for his brother, a way to channel the vicious lust for power and control that had very nearly cost him his life. Someday, Thor thinks wistfully, they will be able to talk about what had happened on that fateful day, how his stomach had lurched when Loki's expression shifted to that of a being utterly consumed by the inherent lure of the Eye of Agamotto, gifted to him temporarily by Doctor Strange (so the Midgardian wizard claimed, anyway). Someday, they will be able to discuss where Loki's mind had truly gone when presented with the reality of his actions, the endgame which, once visualized, had left him sobbing and gasping beneath the roots of Yggdrasil. His crazed expression had eventually receded, his quaking lulled by Thor's fierce embrace. They had both trembled in one another's arms that day, but while Thor knows his own terror had been at the possibility of losing his brother forever to his addiction to magic and power, he suspects the concession had been but one step in Loki's own journey back from the bowels of Hel.

Sometimes, Thor lets him lead. "How do you need me, brother?" he had asked once when that Look had appeared in Loki's eyes again, dark and hungry and furious at the notion of being contained. He had let Loki chain him that night, burly arms connected at the wrists behind his back. He had let Loki force his cock down his throat, and had maintained eye contact with minimal wincing while Loki tugged at his sleek, soft, flaxen hair. On specific occasions, he allows Loki to hit and bite and scratch him hard enough to draw blood, and when Loki wanted him to express just how much such things hurt and aroused him in turns, he did both without hesitation. There isn't a lot of aftercare when Loki takes the reins, in the way that a proper Dominant would grant his submissive, but every once in a while, the careful facade his brother has erected for himself slips, just slightly, and Thor can see glimpses of Loki's grateful desperation beneath the cruel barbs and scowls, and tells himself that it is enough, so long as it continues to keep Loki at his side.

Tonight, the plug that Loki has been told to keep inside of himself all day is still there, inserted snugly in his ass hole. Their bedroom passions rarely make it outside of their unofficially shared chambers in the Avengers Tower, but the plug adds another layer of control between them, and the first time Thor had congratulated Loki for his obedience in this new game by fucking him into his big brother's Midgard-made mattress (the plug having been temporarily removed and 'kept warm' inside of Loki's own mouth) had left them both feeling as though they had ascended together to Valhalla, and so naturally, another round or fifty had been in order after that. The plug itself is obsequious, the displayed bit a fake gem the color of Thor's eyes, or even the Tesseract. The choice had been only half intentional on Thor's part, purchased from a small, clandestine 'sex shop' that he had had to learn to use a computer to locate, and though Loki had scoffed when it was first presented to him (just before Thor had gripped one of the globes of his ass with one meaty hand and instructed him to "bend over, brother"), he had come harder than Thor had thought possible once it had been supplemented with Thor's cock and said meaty hand wrapped around Loki's own faithful erection.

Loki grunts suddenly, as though having Thor simply staring at him, tied on his stomach, wrists tethered to the headboard and legs spread to accommodate his brother kneeling between them, is not enough. The muscles on his back quiver in anticipation of being touched - whipped, beaten, caressed, it's all the same to Loki - and then tense when Thor finally deigns to speak. "You know why you're here, I presume," Thor says. Loki, cheek pressed against the pillow, simply eyes him in a show of silent petulance. "Tell me of your recent transgressions, Loki," Thor continues, "or this is going to be a very long night for you." For emphasis, he presses on the still-inserted plug with his thumb.

"Nnng, fine," Loki snaps. He huffs a little. "I was ... rude," he settles on. "To Captain Cardboard and his paramour."

Thor smacks him hard on the ass, making Loki yelp. "Try again."

"Fine." Loki rolls his eyes. "I ridiculed his brainwashed soldier and he got offended. There was even a bad word involved," he says with faux horror.

"He had every right to," Thor argues, and pinches Loki's ass cheek hard enough to leave a bruise; Loki whimpers a little. "What did you say to him, Loki?"

"Ugh," Loki grounds out. "I merely pointed out that Avengers Tower has become a bastion of sorts for pathetic, broken creatures, cared for by their foolish, well-meaning oafs of ... partners," he settles on. "Where even is the lie in that?"

Thor sighs. "I don't consider you pathetic or broken, Loki."

Loki just glares. "Aren't I? Aren't you and all of your precious mortals simply lying in wait for me to snap again? Isn't my and Sargeant Barnes' being here the least terrible way to keep us both under lock and key; is this not a prison cell disguised as freedom, with you, dear brother, serving as my warden? Aren't you furious that I'm not more thankful to you for saving me from nothingness? Why, I-" 

"ENOUGH." Thor bristles angrily, now. "Would you rather you were put in an actual cell on Asgard? I want you here so I can help you," he protests, frowning down at Loki unhappily. "I want you to feel loved and protected and safe, and for you to learn to use your powers responsibly so they don't end up using you again instead."

Loki snorts. "And what, pray tell, does the mighty Thor get out of this futile little endeavor?"

Thor does not take the bait. "I get my brother back," he says simply. "I get back the one being in all the cosmos whom I love more than life itself."

The sentiment is raw and plainfaced, and Loki finds he cannot begin to accept it. He rubs his face angrily against the pillow with which he has been supplied, his grief swirling palpably around him, searching for an easy target; naturally, he presumes to find one in Thor. "You get to say that you 'fixed' me," he balks at last. "That I'm a broken toy you've put back together again. You get to be the beloved hero, and I remain in the shadow of your greatness. No matter what acts of valor or evil I undertake, I will ever pale in comparison to the true Odinson."

"We are both sons of Odin, Loki," Thor says quietly. "Blood is not everything." 

"But of course," Loki rasps, and his eyes begin to take on the hungry, obsessive sheen that Thor unfortunately knows all too well these days; like a malfunctioning machine, Loki struggles erratically with a bevy of emotions and ambitions, his feelings a maelstrom that he aims time and again at his (adopted) brother. "But if you were to spill mine, you would still be allowed back on Asgard with open arms, and a throne to match. Therein lies the difference between birthright and war trophy."

"Odin has forbidden you from returning home right now because the last time you were there, you posed a distinct danger to yourself and everyone else." Frustration ebbs in Thor's veins; this is not a new topic of conversation between them, and he wonders if they will ever be able to put it to rest for good. Conversely, he can tell by the itching sensation in his limbs that he is not, in fact, the bastion of heroics and goodwill that Loki sneeringly takes him for. The argument has left him feeling angry, manipulated, and Loki is right there, squirming and naked and constantly testing his resolve. Quite frankly, Thor thinks as he reaches into the top drawer of a nearby bedside table, his brother is asking for it.

To its credit, the cat o' nine tails makes for a rather intimidating sight. "Now, where did you get that?" Loki queries, and if he looks a bit more nervous now than before, few could fault him. 

Thor lets the glossy strips of animal hide rest against the flesh of Loki's back. "The same place I procured your princess plug from, Princess," he grins. Loki snarls, but it turns into a keening cry when Thor lifts the cat o' nine tails up and then brings it back down again, none too gently, onto his brother's bare body. "You were saying about my spilling your blood?" he queries, and though most normal beings would find the comment disarming, Loki, now grinning in a somewhat savage way, is not a normal being.

Thor brings down a small flurry of leather lashes onto Loki's back and ass and thighs, five times, seven, ten. He does not worry about being too harsh, allows, even, his frustration at their current impasse to shape the force and frequency of the whipping. True to form, a criss-cross of raised, red markings begin to blossom on Loki's skin; Thor drags his finger across one and it comes away bloody. At one point, he aims a little too high, and one of the strips lances Loki's cheek, just below his right eye. He watches a tear drip from his brother's eye into the small, thin wound, and shudders at the combination of lust and regret that it triggers in him.

He watches Loki heave increasingly strained breaths. "Do you yield?" he asks then, hoping that his brother has the self preservation to pull them both back from the brink.

Loki, however, outright laughs at him. "Never," he croaks, and the eye Thor can see is a razor-thin shard of ice, accusatory, furious. It flutters closed momentarily when Thor begins manipulating the plug still nestled in Loki's ass, the former act accompanied by Loki biting his lower lip. When the plug comes free with a soft 'pop' sound, Loki groans, though it cuts off when he sees Thor fumbling around in that blasted drawer again. "I'm surprised you're bothering to moisten your entry," he snarls. "Wouldn't drenching your cock with Jotun blood collected from my many wounds please you more?"

Thor's nostrils flare a little. "Contrary to popular belief, I have no interest in ripping you apart this night, brother. Besides," he adds, and holds up the handle of the cat o' nine tails, now slick with lubricant, "your flesh will have quite a few more ridges to contend with than it would were I to use my cock." 

Indeed, the braided handle pushes bit by bit past the ring of muscle with agonizing slowness, each new ridge beginning the process over again. By the time it is inside of Loki up to the hilt, the God of Mischief is nearly spasming from the sensation. Thor tugs it out a couple of inches and then pushes it back inside anew, and Loki's entire body trembles. "Oh," he gasps as he takes three or four ridges inside of himself in one go, and then flushes when he glances up and realizes that Thor is staring at him, as well. He forces himself to maintain eye contact, until his peripheral vision sees Thor's free hand snake down; then, his cock, currently flush against his belly and leaking, is sheathed in his brother's large, rough fingers, and he lets out a small squawk. Overhead, his own hands wring and tug uselessly in their tight bonds; his back muscles ripple in anticipation and excitement.

Thor begins to pump Loki's cock with a similar rhythm as he moves the cat o' nine tails handle in and out of his brother's ass. Loki's mouth is agape now, his lips wet and red, and Thor's only regret is that he cannot also capture them with his own mouth until he has bitten them and suckled Loki's tongue to his fill. As it is, he has no intention of taking his own pleasure this night, though there is some satisfaction in casually asking Loki whether he thinks Thor's cock will slide in easily alongside the handle of the whip into his brother's now dripping channel, and watching Loki whimper and move to hide his face a little. "Why do you force me to hurt you?" Thor asks, and though he does not expect a non-sarcastic answer, the one he receives nearly stops him in his tracks.

"Because," Loki grounds out, his release nearing, breath coming in gasps, "it hurts less than you - ah - loving me."

"My love," Thor begins, pumping more purposefully when Loki's breath hitches, a covert hint that he is about to come, "is not meant" - he twists his wrist and Loki yells an obscenity - "to ... hurt you!" Aptly, Loki comes across his fingers then, chest heaving, his face wet with both tears and sweat. Though he does not particularly believe in aftercare, Thor rushes to clear off the bed of their accoutrement, as well as to loose his brother's wrists from their tether. He will rub at them tenderly until proper circulation has returned to Loki's hands, but in the more immediate moment, every fiber of his being is concerned only with comforting his brother. 

He gathers Loki in his arms, murmuring his name repeatedly, as well as whatever sentiment seems right for the occasion into the crown of his hair. It is a testament to how much these sessions truly affect him that Loki does not simply pull away; rather, he curls needily into Thor's embrace, still and softly crying as Thor takes special pains to kiss him on the forehead, cheeks, and chin, and then, at last, to claim his mouth in the gentlest meeting of lips. "I will never stop loving you, brother," he whispers fiercely, moving at last to massage the other man's swollen wrists. "If you come to me broken, I will work only to make you whole again. If you need me to cause you pain to feel pleasure, or to make you bleed so that you know penance, I will shoulder that responsibility. I want you however I am allowed to have you, Loki, my precious, passionate love. You are a part of me. You are the other half of my soul; were you to see fit to rip out my heart with your bare hands, I would give it to you freely, because it has always been yours for as long as I can remember, just as you are mine. My Loki."

Loki's breath is shaky; his face is wet with tears that spill unbidden down his cheeks, curling around the firm, aristocratic line of his jaw. "You think ... too highly of me," he gets out, and then winces when Thor jostles him slightly so as to plant a kiss on the small wound on his cheek. He shudders, and Thor shushes him.

"I see you precisely how you are, my tempestuous, lovely baby brother." Thor's hold on him tightens, and Loki's eyelashes flutter against his throat. "I accept the duality of your being. I accept everything that you are, good or bad. You need not struggle to hide yourself from me, or to run away anymore. You and I both know that I will find you, again and again. We do not need to fight one another, brother."

Loki sighs softly, head pillowed against Thor's broad chest. "Sometimes," he offers, "I need to run to be sure that you will still bother to give chase." His hands curl around the one of Thor's recently occupied with massaging his wrists. "I've caught you," Loki says, the barest hint of a smile upturning his mouth.

Thor brings the cluster of hands up to his lips, and kisses Loki's knuckles. "Indeed," he says.


End file.
